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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195812">On Healing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainNautical/pseuds/CaptainNautical'>CaptainNautical</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Disco Elysium (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Addiction, Angst, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kinda, M/M, POV Second Person, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationships, Post canon, Sorry Cop, healing cop, mental health, the white mourning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:47:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>661</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainNautical/pseuds/CaptainNautical</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“ “When do you think healing starts, Kim?” The question hangs in the cold air for a moment. It’s suspended in the steam coming out from your mouth. The winter breeze carries it towards the Lieutenant. “</p><p>A moment on the roof of precinct 41.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Du Bois &amp; Kim Kitsuragi, Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>On Healing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“When do you think healing starts, Kim?” The question hangs in the cold air for a moment. It’s suspended in the steam coming out from your mouth. The winter breeze carries it towards the Lieutenant.</p><p>Who is looking at you. Without a word and with his cigarette in between his fingers. He doesn’t answer. He thinks this is another one of your rhetorical wonderings. It kind of is. But it’s not really, is it? You want to know.</p><p>You’ve asked yourself this again and again: When? Aren’t you tired of aching? When are you going to let go?</p><p>You feel heavy.</p><p>“It was the market wasn’t it?” You hear beside you. Kim leans over the railing and looks down.</p><p>A door opening and closing after someone holds it for another. A quiet police officer zips up her jacket further and a sad looking man turns up his collar. Far above them on the roof, two men stand smoking together.</p><p>“You mentioned apricots again.” Kim flicks a large snowflake off his knuckle. He looks over at you.</p><p>You tap your cigarette and watch the embers float away.</p><p>“Usually,” you start, “It feels like I’m falling into a pit that’ll never end.”</p><p>“Usually?” Kim says. He must be feeling generous today. He’s humoring you.</p><p>
  <em>He’s concerned.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He’s curious.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Shut up.</em>
</p><p>“I just felt tired this time.” You haven’t taken a drag from your cigarette in a while. It’s burning down towards your fingers. You think about letting it until a gloved hand reaches over and takes it. He drops it into the snow.</p><p>“I felt tired of existing.”</p><p>“Khm...”</p><p>
  <em>He didn’t like your wording.</em>
</p><p>“Of going on like this.” You say instead.</p><p>Kim is looking at you but you aren’t looking at him. You started the day by being obnoxious and joking about almost everything. You ended the day like this.</p><p>You think about what you’re doing right now. You think about what you’ve been trying to get better at.</p><p>
  <em>You hand people your emotional baggage and walk away when they ask for some help carrying it. To you it didn’t matter how heavy it was for them. You had to carry it. Other people should too.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Forgetting who you were helped in seeing that.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sadness enjoys company.</em>
</p><p>“Sorry.” You murmur. “Let’s just go home.”</p><p>It’s starting to get late. You want to be home in the apartment you live in with Kim. Momentarily your mind flutters to the tray of dishes you still need to put away, and how the lieutenant has resorted to leaving notes all over the house reminding you to “do your fucking dishes”.</p><p>You both move to get going. Kim puts his cigarette out on the sole of his shoe. While in this pose he pauses, thinking, before looking at you.</p><p>“Healing isn’t always noticeable.” He says.</p><p>You blink.</p><p>“Time is unkind.” He says, starting to walk. You follow, of course. “We often forget to be kind to ourselves too.”</p><p>You both stop at the door that leads to the stairs that leads to precinct 41s exit. Kim pauses to clean his glasses and looks at you.</p><p>His eyes are gentle and kind and you’re struck by them right away. He always does this. Amaze you, that is.</p><p>“You’re doing exceptionally well, Harry.” He reaches out and squeezes your arm gently.</p><p>Something rushes through you. You feel a wave of raw emotion swell and rise up in your throat. Your eyes prickle. Kim gives another light squeeze before letting go.</p><p>“Sorry,” you blubber out, “you know me. Mr. Sensitive.” You press your fingers to your eyes and will them to stop.</p><p>Kim smiles a bit. He understands. He does know you. You and your incredible capacity for emotion and your ability to let it hurt you.</p><p>“Let’s go home,” he says. “It’s your turn to make dinner.”</p><p>“I thought you didn’t like my cooking.”</p><p>“I don’t. I was joking.”</p><p>“... Want to get kebabs?”</p><p>“Stop reading my thoughts, detective.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Harry reminds me of myself. Wanted to write something I feel like we’ve both felt.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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